The Legend of Vegeta
by llwild1992
Summary: "If they ever tell my story, let them say I walked with giants. Men rise and fall like the sun and the moon. But these names will never die. Let them say I lived in the time of Vegeta, King of all Saiyans." The story of how King Vegeta became the King of All Saiyans in the true age of Saiyans, not through the eyes of his son, but the man himself. Pre-genocide of the Saiyans.
1. Part One

Disclaimer: I do not own this Anime.

2019-

"If they every tell my story, let them say I walked with giants. Men rise and fall like the sun and the moon. But these names will never die. Let them say I lived in the time of Vegeta, King of all Saiyans."

_The Legend of Vegeta _ _Part One _

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The Saiyans of plant Salada gathered at the great plateau of the Western Tribe. As the sun rose in the west, the tribe of the west; one of the largest tribes on the planet, led by their Warlord Zuchin. They stood under the light of the sun, ready for battle, to defend their lands from the invading coalition of Saiyans.

As the sun broke the clouds, the leader of the invading tribe stepped forward, his long black hair, peppered with greying strands at the hairline, held up his armored hand. Using Ki, he floated upwards, the wind billowing his purple cape. Showing himself to Zuchin.

The defending lord followed in suit. Slowly, with a supporter each behind at a distance, the two leaders came to the center of the plateau. Both males stood with hands on their weapons, Ki spiked, ready for anything while their supporters flew above squaring off, ready to defend their lords.

"Good day for a war." The invading male said as he looked at the sky, "Blood will stain the land for weeks to come."

"You have no cause to invade my tribal lands, Pepanos." Zuchin warned as he pulled his helmet from his head, his dark locks falling into his dark gaze, "You have a kingdom of your own."

"I like your lands," Pepanos laughed, wrapping his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels as his tail came undone from around his waist, "I like your men too."

"They'll never fight for you."

"That's what the southern tribes said, and the northern tribes before I unified them. Many lords stood before me as you do and claimed I would not take their men. I have. Look behind me, Zuchin, over 5,000 Saiyans united under my rule stand at the gates of your land. I will have it."

"You can't have the whole planet for your own. It's too large."

"I'm tired," Pepanos smirked, "Look at me," he motioned with his hand to his face, "I have been fighting for nearly 70 years, since I was a boy at my father's side. Before I die, I will be King of all of the Saiyans. Keep your lands, but you and your men will come to me whenever I call. Many things are changing in the universe, there are other powers that could threaten our race. So here is how we do this, I'd hate to lose good men; your best fighter against mine. Winner take all."

"When I win, you forget my tribe. We will not be slaves to your ideals of an untied planet. Even if you could find the lost tribe, you will never have the allegiance of all the Saiyans."

"We'll see."

Pivoting Zuchin screamed out, "Parsnippas!"

The Saiyans cheered, raising their swords and shields in excitement as the largest of them pushed from the crowd. A hulk of a male, well over normal height, built like a god, wide and bulky. Removed of all armor save for armguards and shin braces. He stood proudly, showing off the scars littering this chest and face. Clean of hair and dark eyes.

Pepanos smirked and called forth his champion, "Vegeta!" When no one cheered and instead chuckled from the silence, the king pivoted and growled, "Vegeta!" when the male did not make himself known, the king cursed him.

Tossing back his head, Zuchin laughed happily at the missing warrior. "Most men piss their armor and cry for their mother's tit at the sight of Parsnippas."

"Careful who you insult! Even the god of war would strike you down if you say it again."

"If this _Vegeta_ is so respected, why is he hiding?"

"My lord!" a soldier flew forward, dropping to his knee, "Vegeta is not with his men."

"Where is he?"

"I sent a boy to find him."

"Get him here!" the king roared, "I'll be damned if he costs me this tribe."

"Then please, gods, keep him away." Zuchin laughed in defiance as he flew back to his side of the upland.

The boy sent to find the warrior Vegeta was a young one of less than ten years old. He flew until his body could not manage the distance. He ran the rest of the way to the encampments where they had slept the night before. He knew of Vegeta of the Iron Island, a Sealord, blessed by the gods in prowess and strength. His Iron Born men had come to the battle, but none dared to bring their lord.

Their tents lay under their banner, the red symbol of a grand ship and three sails against the black color of death and night. Three power signatures lay in the center tent. Slowly the boy entered the darkened area. Snoring filled his ears as his eyes adjusted in the darkness. He found the Sealord laying in a bed of skins and furs. Naked with two females on either side of him.

The boy knew better than to approach a male with such a power, especially when bedded down in slumber with bedmates. But the king waited, and he did not wish to be killed for failing to bring the Sealord. Swallowing his fear as he approached, the male's face was turned away, his power choking the boy. He reached out.

Before he could touch the shoulder of Vegeta, the males hand shot out and gripped his throat in a crushing grip. Sitting up, the male looked directly into the child eyes with a hazy glare. Clawing at his large hand the child's fear flavored their air. The females both awoke from sleep as well.

"What?" Vegeta demanded as he threw the boy away.

Coughing as he fell to his knees, the boy looked away, "King Pepanos sent me." he squealed.

Vegeta, Sealord of the Iron Islands scoffed as he lay back down into the arms of his bedmates. One kissed his cheek as the other snuggled into the side of his chest. "I will speak with your king in the morning." The darker skinned female wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him towards her, kissing his lips, demanding attention from him.

Smirking into her kiss, he brought her astride his lap. The boy had not left and yet shuttered before his bed. Her hands threaded into his long spiky hair as she sat onto his lap, her tail pushing the other female out of the way as she greedily sought his affection.

"But my lord…" the child dropped his forehead to the ground, "It is morning!"

His stomach dropped, pushing the darker female away, he peered towards the opening of his dwelling, sure enough, the sun peered through. Throwing the female off his lap and pushing the other who sough his chest with her hands, he growled and stood.

"They are waiting for you at the front."

Cursing, Vegeta went to his armor and dressed. The females tried to entice him back to bed. Showing off the pleasure skills most warrior females did not possess, caressing each other as lovers. Instead he turned his mind from the pleasures of the body to the pleasure of war. Taking a tankard of wine, he washed his mouth and wet his tongue before gathering his sword and sheild, along with his helmet.

The boy followed as he tied his armguards.

"Are your legends true? Is it true you were blessed by the gods? They say you can't be killed." His wide eyes looked upon him in the daylight.

Smirking, the medium height Vegeta tightened the laces on his forearm, "I wouldn't be bothering with a sheild and armor, then would I?" looking down at the boy he asked, "What is your name?"

"Paragus, milord." The boy held his head high, "Son of Broly." Vegeta nodded, having never heard of the father, but instead of mocking the Saiyan without a legend, he gave the boy a moment of pride. But then the color dropped from his face, "The Saiyan you are fighting, he is the largest male I have ever seen. I wouldn't want to fight him."

Raising his sheild over his shoulder, Vegeta smirked and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. He was too young for the desires of war to ignite his blood, but that apprehensiveness would poison his Saiyan drive for battle and make him a coward.

"That is why no one will remember your name." he said before flying upwards.

Taking a moment to stretch his tired limbs he spied the gathering of flying craft on the outskirts of the camp, beyond that, the river and the sea ships he and his fellow islanders sailed. He had no use of flying craft. As a skilled Sealord of the Iron Islands he need only open the sails and his ship would fly with the wind. The sun warmed his medium colored skin as his body came to life.

Sensing the power signatures of the massive Saiyan army collected by Pepanos and the defending army of the western tribes, Vegeta headed towards the battlefield. He cared not for Pepanos, would have never followed him blindly. Yet a vow from one's father could not be broken. His father, Vegeta second of his name bent the knee to Pepanos when the southern tribes fell. Many of the Iron born were children, not yet battle ready. Rather than losing in combat and keeping his realm safe, the second Vegeta vowed loyalty. Now his son, the third Vegeta must uphold his father's promise.

He did not have to serve Pepanos, only come when called so his islands and all his tribe would continue to live. He is Chief of the Iron Born, Pepanos can have the planet, call himself the King of Kings and King of Planet Salada. The Iron Born and the other Sealords across the southern realm would follow Vegeta because of honor not conquest. If Pepanos realized his dream, he would die soon after. No one man could control a whole race like the Saiyans. Only the gods could.

The army came into view, all sensed his presence coming towards them. For there is none like Vegeta. No one matches his strength, power, or abilities. Vegeta may be third of his name, but there is only one Vegeta in this generation that make males quake in his presence or melts the cunts of all females who get a whiff of his musk. No warlord or king matching him. None shall ever. The massive army cheered his name. His name, not the so-called king of kings. Landing at the front, he locked eyes with the beast of a man the child was scared to fight. Three heads taller than Vegeta, possibly four times his weight. Bulkier than him, but not stronger. Already his power level had already reached its peak, it didn't even match his own.

For all his muscles and might, he was a weakling.

"Should we start our war tomorrow?" Pepanos mocked as Vegeta strode forward. "You stink of wine! I should have you whipped for disobedience."

Cocking his head to the side, he stared the king down, "Perhaps you should fight him?" scoffing as the king's color dropped at such a question, Vegeta turned to walk away.

"_Vegeta_!" the king growled, "Vegeta," Pepanos stood in his path once again, "Look at the men, they are tired. Let them go home to their females and children. Leave the fighting to real Saiyans, you can end this with a swing of your sword or blast of your Ki, think of the songs that will be written of this victory."

Smirking he stared into the dark eyes of Pepanos before unslinging his dark sheild. "Imagine a king that fights his own battles!" he scoffed, "Wouldn't that be a sight, Pepanos."

Heading towards battle, he heard the king whisper to his comrade, "Of all the warlords blessed by the gods. I hate _him_ the most."

Unsheathing his sword, his full attention was on the man he was to kill. The brute raised his arms and roared, his tail swishing around in delight. His army cheered at his back. They thought a smaller male would be no match for this hulk. However, being smaller always had it's advantages.

At the same time, they rushed each other in flight. The larger sending out two larger Ki blasts, Vegeta easily evaded, using his sheild to bock the dagger thrown in their shadow. Tossing his sheild down he focused a precise amount of Ki into his hand and then surround his blade. Flying faster than the hulk he raised his sword and sliced from hip to shoulder in one even movement. Passing the brute with a smirk.

The other make paused and then let out a startled gasp. The scent of fresh blood permeated the air as the male's body separate in two perfect section. Falling to the dark stone top of the upland. The defenders went silent as the army at his back cheered his name. Raising their swords in unison.

Landing before the Western Tribe, Vegeta looked into each of the male's eyes, his heart pounding, his desire to do battle raging. His blood boiled as his senses ricocheted into gear at the scent of blood and feeling of victory. "Is there no one else?" he asked the army before him. Raising his arms in challenge, "Is there no one else?"

Cowards.

None moved to challenge him.

The only man brave enough to step forward was the chief, marked with a white bone staff in his hand. He looked down at the smaller and younger male in surprise. "Who are you?"

Head up and chest puffed out he proudly said, "Vegeta, third of his name, son of Vegeta of the Iron Island,"

"_Vegeta_, I will remember your name." He bowed his head before offering a staff, "The chief of my tribe carries this staff, give it to your king."

Hissing, Vegeta turned his back of Zuchin, "He's not my _king_."

Returning to his men, Vegeta scoffed as Zuchin gave his staff to Pepanos in a dull ceremony. The Western Tribes bent the knee to the king, proclaiming him their master. Vegeta did not even bow as the whole of the united army did. Instead he turned and started to walk away from the sight. He would return to the Iron Islands in the coming days, and hopefully never to do battle as Pepanos' slave again.

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Many months passed after the battle to subdue the Western Tribes. Pepanos called for the Iron born once again to attend him in the great palace of the Eastern Kingdom, but Vegeta did not go when called. He took great pleasure in defying the king. Many of the Sealords of the South and to the West followed in suit, sending only apologies for their absences. They had the winter months to plan for and the summer crop to harvest. The migration of the sea mammals, their only source of food was their calling. While such things could be forgiven, Vegeta offered no explanation nor message. He simply didn't want to go, and took pride and pleasure in angering the king. Instead he looked to the training of his cousin. Tarble, son of his father's brother. His uncle died long before Tarble was capable of flight, so Vegeta took it upon himself to rear up the boy. Now a young man and his heir to the Chieftain.

In his twentieth year of life, Tarble resembled his mother, delicate in features, but Vegeta saw that only his face remained as such. Running the boy into the ground with training. He was almost ready for his first war. His power level could use some growth, but he was skilled with the sword and sheild. Today was one of the days Vegeta took his cousin into the high stone hills, to practice amongst the ruins of what had been a temple to the gods. There they could train without interference or distraction.

Weighted down with bands around his waist, Tarble was slower, easier to have delight with. Running about the ruins they mock played with the same wooden swords their ancestors trained with. The same swords their fathers learned on.

Pinning Tarble down, sword at the neck, he smirked, "Never hesitate!" backing away he goaded Tarble to attack.

Changing sword hands to the left, he japed the boy in the gut. Tarble grimaced, "You said never to change sword hands."

"Only once you know how to use it, by then you won't be taking _my_ orders."

"Why must we use wooden swords?" Tarble asked as they sparred amongst the ruins, jumping from stone to stone, testing agility.

"I don't want to scar that pretty face before you've managed to seduce your first female!" Vegeta mocked at the youthful beauty of his cousin. Pushing him backwards and then shooting off a series of small Ki blasts for the boy to evade, "You shouldn't always rely on your sword, the gods did not bless us with Ki for us not to use it."

Under the cover of the blast, the boy advanced and managed to place a hit on the side of Vegeta's neck, "Scared?" he asked with a smile.

Chuckling, "Terrified." He answered before pivoting and kicking him in the gut, jumping above he blasted him with Ki once more, to see his cousin had used his assault as a distraction. Appearing at his side, trying to use his own blast, but was countered with a jab to the throat.

Just as they were about to continue, Vegeta sensed a new presence. Someone he knew very well. Hands at one side, he gathered his Ki into his signature move, the galick gun, and shot out with both wrists together at the approaching Saiyan.

"Vegeta!" the dark haired Saiyan laughed as he deflects the Ki blast into the rocks. He came down from his flight pattern and landed. Dressed down in simple furs rather than armor. He was not here to fight, never was whenever Vegeta saw him.

Pushing his cousin away, Vegeta stepped forward and smirked, "Cabua, King of the Eastern Plains Tribe." When his cousin continued to attack, Vegeta easily deflected his sword and took his arm. Bending his wrist to the near breaking point he forced the younger male forward, practice sword pressing at his neck. Presenting him to Cabua, "Tarble, my cousin."

Dropping Tarble's hand the young male sprang forward and bowed in respect to Cabua. Cabua placed his hand on the side of Tarble's arm, "I knew your parents well, Tarble, the worst of enemies and the best of comrades. I miss our battles." Vegeta smirked as he drank from a skin to wet his tongue, "But now you have this one looking after you, learning from the great Sealord himself, kings would kill his enemies for the honor."

Smirking, Vegeta pushed Tarble away, "Sing your venom tipped songs to me, not my cousin." He knew Cabua well, his silver tongue would soon ask Tarble to fight under his banner.

Laughing, the visiting chief relaxed, "You have your battle tactics I have my songs. We all must play to our strengths."

"You're here on behalf of Pepanos."

"We need to talk."

Tarble followed at a distance as Vegeta walked with Cabua. They looked out into the vast blue seas under the control and dominance of Vegeta. Below the tribesmen sailed out into the low tides to fish for the night meal in the grand hall. At the base of the far range cliffs a group of young ones play fought in the sands. Young females learned at their mother's sides how to make netting for the males. Out of all the tribes of the Saiyans, the island tribes are ranked lowest, despite producing powerful warriors, they need to work to live. Their islands do not have abundant animals to hunt and eat, therefor the tradition of fishing and prowling the seas for larger creatures has been passed down from generation to generation.

He may be a powerful warrior, but living amongst his tribe, protecting them, is his main priority. Even though his soul longs for glory in battle. To have his name remembered alongside the legends of his father and grandfather.

Cabua came on behalf of Pepanos, it was rumored from the main lands that after taking the seat of the west, he pillaged the temple of the goddess of wisdom. An ancient text spoke of the missing tribe and where they hide. The Misty Islands and the ancient tribe it protects, despite being islanders, are not the same as his tribe. They are an enigma, a set of their own. Stories sung to frighten children remained long after the tribe disappeared. With one touch of their hand, a Saiyans powers and Ki could vanish. Making a soldier easier to kill.

"I know what you have come to say." Vegeta leaned against the retaining wall, wrapping his arms over his chest, "I will not fight for him again. The Saiyans of the Misty Islands cannot be overtaken. I don't care if he found their lost lands in an ancient book."

"I am not asking you to fight for him, I am asking you to fight for the Saiyan race, united as one. No more squabbling tribes."

"We will still be fighting each other. Besides, what business of this is mine?"

"Your business is war, as was your father's, and his father before him. Born into a famous family of powerful warriors. Songs are still sung in honor of Vegeta first of his name. Now your legend rivals even his."

"My father and grandfather are remembered for their greatness, for battles won as Sealords. Pepanos is a tyrant and will lead an untied Saiyan race into ruin for his ambition. I am the third of my name, I will not be remembered as this tyrant's mercenary."

"You can fight for honor, Vegeta, let Pepanos fight for power, and let the gods decide which male to glorify."

Tarble blasted forward, fists flying, enjoyment in his smile as he took the distracted Vegeta as an open Target. Flying upwards he fought back, not bothering to pull his strength back.

Cabua laughed and continued to speak, yelling up to Vegeta as he and Tarble sparred, "Forget Pepanos," He laughed, "Fight with me? My mate will rest easier knowing the mighty Vegeta is at my side. I will feel much better seeing your banner beside my own."

Hit in the head, partially stunned, Tarble fell to the ground. Rubbing his head, he turned towards the visiting lord, "Is Napa fighting?" Tarble asked. "They say he can fell a tree with one stroke of his sword."

Vegeta took the moment of Tarble's childish curiosity and disarmed him, hitting him with a near gentle Ki blast, sending him flying into the rubble.

"He is strong." Cabua laughed as Vegeta rejoined him, still holding the practice sword while Tarble's lay in the rubble as the younger male soothed his bruised pride. "Reminds me greatly of his father."

"He still has many years before he is ready to fight." Smirking, Vegeta regarded his friend, "I still will not go."

"We are sailing the largest fleet to ever sail under one banner to the Misty Islands 10,000 ships. The islands are so isolated there is no place to house our men. This form of battle suits your men, men of the sea. The ships of your ancestors are equaled by none in the main lands. If you do not sail, the other Sealords will not. We need your expertise, Vegeta."

"The Saiyans of the Misty Islands isolated themselves for a reason, Cabua. They are far greater than Sealords or any Warlords. We lost them because our ancestors would rather forget them than fight them. The legends say their city walls cannot be breached. We should honor that decision rather than seek them out."

Weak, ready for a hot meal and rest, Tarble approached, holding his wrist, flexing it gentle. "Are they as powerful as the legends say? The mountains which they live under give them extraordinary strength and powers. That they are giants? Is it true they even have control of their Great Apes?"

"The best, maybe of all the Saiyans. It would be a real chance to test our strength, to see of the legends stand up to fact." Vegeta smirked at his words, knowing he was goading him to come, just to prove he was the greatest warrior. His mind rallied, he should stay. However, his desire to gain glory in battle sang in his heart. Cabua changed tactics and touched Tarble's shoulder, "Even if your cousin doesn't come, I could use a strong arm like yours at my side, Tarble."

"He is not going anywhere." Vegeta warned, pushing Cabua's hand away and stepping in front of his cousin. "You know how to see yourself off my island."

Cabua laughed at his dismissal, "Rumors of your hospitality are becoming legendary, Vegeta, I pray you know that." Stepping away, "We sail in three days." He started up the path before pivoting, "This war to unify our race will never be forgotten, nor will the soldiers who fight in it. Songs will be sung for one thousand years, Vegeta, maybe longer."

Vegeta stood with Tarble as they watch Cabua fly off, returning to the flying craft he had flown in on. Sharing the skin of wine, they spoke more of this war to come. Like any other untested male, Tarble wanted to fight and prove his manhood. He repeatedly asked Vegeta to reconsider, to take not only their men, but to take him.

"I am ready, cousin."

"Ready?" Vegeta laughed, gripping the back of his cousin's head, pulling him close so he may speak directly without any discrepancy, "I spy not even a hair on your face nor chest, you have not even been in the bed of a female and felt the warmth of pleasure. Yet you are ready to die in battle?"

"If I must."

Slapping the back of his idiotic head, Vegeta rolled his eyes, "Are you loyal to me or to Pepanos?"

"You, cousin."

Shoving him away, Vegeta snarled. "You will be ready when I say you are."

"I am not a whelpling, cousin."

"You do as I say." He warned agin before walking off. "When you are Sealord you will understand why I hold you back, when you train your own heir, you will understand."

Walking down into his village, Vegeta's heart sang. Blood boiling. Desire for battle unfettered. Killing the brute from the west did not quench his thrits. Battle is what warriros like him are born for. He was born to rank higher in the army than any Sealord before him. He was born to continue the legend that is of the House Vegeta. A testament to his father and grandfather.

He found himself headed towards the beach as the fishermen pulled their long ships into the cove. They rejoiced in the hefty catch of the day. His people would eat well tonight. He would see that the pots of the widows and orphans are filled before he eats for himself. As is his duty as Sealord.

Beyond the cove lay the tidepools. A single female waded in the waters captured by the rocks. He knew her well. Going to her, he knew his fretted would end once her words are spoken.

Dressed in light skins, her long black smooth hair piled high atop her head, fitted with pins made of bone, she reached into the water and gathered items. He watched her for a long while. Just being near her calmed him. Mothers often do that for their children.

Quasha, his father's widow, hummed to herself as she searched for white seashells. Known throughout the southern islands as a great prophetess. The gods whisper tidings and fortunes in her dreams. She often spouts divinations long before they are to come true. In her youth she dreamt of a Sealord, attacking her island atop his mast, energy blast firing into the sky. She trained for years until that day came. When the arrived, she was ready. Battling the Sealord herself, scaring his left eye. Yet when the moment to strike him down into the afterlife, she hesitated. He attacked and knocked her out. She awoke on his ship bound for the Iron Islands and found herself his mate.

She thought her vision would be destruction, instead it brought her islands allies and herself a worthy mate. His father Vegeta second of his name was a great leader, a commander above all others.

Stepping to join his mother, he listened to the songs he once slept too in her arms as a child. "Mother,"

"I knew they would come for you, Vegeta." His mother spoke gently as she stood from the gentle rocking of the water, pulling a shell into the sunlight, watching it shimmer in her hands, "I knew they would come for you. Long before you were born. Your father knew it too." She turned towards him, "They want you to fight." She looked at his solemn expression and her smiled returned, "I am making you another necklace, like the ones I made you as a boy."

"I need your council, mother." He sighed, as he stood in the stillness of the tidepool. "Tonight, I decide."

Stepping towards her only child, Quasha reached out and touched the side of his angular face, her eyes imagining his life, "If you say on our islands, you will find peace in times of war. You will find a wonderful mate; she will give you sons and daughters. They will have children, and they will love you. When you are gone, they will remember you." Her motherly smiles turned to sadness, for her knew the real part of the life that he would live that would hurt his ambition, "But when your children are dead, and theirs after them, your name will be _forgotten_. If you go with the army, if you conquer the Misty Islands, glory will be yours. Stories will be written about you for thousands of years; your name will be legendary—the universe will remember your name. But if you go, I shall never see you again, for your glory walks hand in hand with your death."

"You know this to be true mother?"

"I know this, my son; you will never come home. Our people, the Saiyan Race, will never be as they once were after this war."

Taking in a single deep breath, Vegeta looked out into the setting sun, watching as the wave turned dark on the horizon. He then turned to his islands, his tribe. Could he sacrifice his glory to live a life of nothingness? Could he give up the legends of Vegeta? If he goes, could he leave his people, his mother, his home and never return? What is the meaning of a Saiyan warrior's life if there is no glory?

Sensing his troubles, Quasha kissed the side of his cheek before wading deeper into the waters, "When you were born, I knew you would leave me. Wherever you go, I will always be your mother and you my greatest achievement. I prayed this day would never come. I watched your father sail away to his death because it was the will of the gods. But I have not the heart to watch my only son do the same."

"I am a warrior mother, my blood sings for glory in battle. I desire nothing more."

"The gods have blessed you my son, whichever destiny you choose is your own. Whatever battle you choose is yours to fight." Gently she smiled, "This war will happen with or without you."

"Thank you, mother." Bowing at the waist he walked away. Knowing his choice.

Glory.

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To be Continued...Review and tell me what you think!

Word Count: 5,874

Page Count: 12

Okay to clear some things up, yes, I know I have not been active in the last few years and have many fictions to finish up. I would like to take the time to say I wrote this a few years ago and have now decided to upload. Thank you all, if you saw this in your email and got all happy to see something from me again and clicked right away, your support his wonderful.

So, I know DBZ fiction is really out there from my usual Naruto stuff. However, Vegeta is absolutely my favorite anime character EVER. I studied Greek and Roman history in Uni, so because the Saiyans are a near Spartan like race, I worked my favorite parts of the Iliad and the Odyssey into this story. This is a legendary Homeric story of King Vegeta taking place on the Saiyan's home world Planet Salada before evacuating to Planet Plant (to be conquered and renamed Vegeta)

Known as Vegeta third of his name (Vegeta III) he is a chief of a tribe of Saiyans known as islanders. I am imaging Planet Salada much like our own planet with main lands and groups of islands. Despite being from what I call the south, imagine Vegeta III and his people like the Vikings. Long ships, shields, and a lot of rowing.

Vegeta is the son of Vegeta II and Quasha, cousin to Tarble (Yes, I know, he names his younger son after his cousin) I am trying to keep with the naming traditions of the anime, but there are only so many veggies that I can make into actual cool sounding names.

Vegeta is about 30+ years old, keeping in mind the Saiyans age very slowly.

The man in charge is Pepanos (Pepper lol) he is trying to conqueror all of the Saiyans on Planet Salada, he has nearly all of it, save for the lost tribe of the Misty Islands who are supposed to be some badass warriors that are near myth to the Saiyans of the main lands. By conquering them, he now has control over all the Saiyans on Salada and therefor will be King of Kings and of the Race. But wait…isn't that our guy King Vegeta?

This is the legend of how a Sealord becomes king of an entire peoples


	2. Part Two

The Legend of Vegeta

Part Two

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"Hoist the colors." Vegeta orders as he and the Sealords sailed their ships towards the fleet.

At his back the other three lords followed with the ancient ships of their people. Together they numbered sixteen, fifteen men on each ship. The Southern Tribes referred to the Islanders as River Monsters. Generations long since past before this age of kings when the Sealords sailed their ships into the rivers of the main lands to terrorize the tribes lining the rivers, they truly had been beasts of the sea.

Now as he stood at the front of the ship, eyes onto the horizon, Vegeta felt no connection to the lords of his past. His grandfather, Vegeta first of his name, was known as the Serpent of Deep, launching his men under the water, the waves, and into the fray against rival lords. Only true monsters live under the water. The Saiyans of the lands conquered the beast of flight and land, but it was under the sea that truly terrifying things lived.

His colors of black and red flew high in the wind, his five ships followed in suit the other Sealords called for their colors to rise. Soon the titans of the sea flew on the wave and beyond the fleet. Their ships did not compare to the Islanders, made for long distance and river travel. Pepanos' own obnoxiously large and wide ship did not even move fast enough to be at the helm of his fleet.

"He's supposed to be leading us to a so-called victory." Vegeta laughed as he ordered the sails to be tightened, speed his main objective.

"Milord," his right-hand comrade, Mato, stood at his side, "With this wind, the journey will take but a fortnight," in his hand lay the map all lords were given, "But it is the eternal storm that will break us."

Leave it to the ancestors to hide themselves in the eye of a forever storm, the one place in the world no traveler would dare go near. The maelstrom was known as the door to the afterlife, only a fool seeking his own death would fly that far.

Hand upon his man's shoulder, "Are we not Sealords?"

"Yes, sir."

"Never before has a Sealord bested the maelstrom, now it is time for our triumph to be written."

Tarble walked to his side, wearing the necklace Quasha had made. Instead of putting it on himself when his mother handed it to him, he placed it on his cousin. A promise that Tarble would see his home again. His destiny was not the same as Vegeta. He would return to the Iron Islands. He would live a life of peace and enjoyment, find a worthy mate and breed young ones. Vegeta would see to it.

"Should we not wait for the fleet?"

"No." Vegeta laughed, turning his back on the sea to peer into his cousin's wide eyes, "We may be sailing with Pepanos, but we do not serve him. We are going to the Misty Islands for our own glory, not for his."

"By separating the Sealords from the fleet you are showing disrespect."

"The lords follow me because I am worthy of following, because we are the same." Facing towards the sea, his eyes searched the horizon, "This war belongs to the soldiers, not him, the sooner we get there, the sooner battle begins."

"I understand."

"Make yourself useful, learn to steer the ship." Ruffling his tall spiked hair to agitate him, Vegeta turned to his post, watching the seas.

Tarble groaned, hating the treatment as a child, however he did what he was told. There was no better place for a young Saiyan but at the sidelines of battle. Vegeta looked back as Tarble learned at the side of a seasoned helmsman. Rather than looking disappointed he was being treated as a child, he looked to be rather enjoying himself.

The test of an islander warrior is not in his strength or battle prowess, but his resilience on the seas. Had Tarble's father lived, he would have taken the boy out into the deep waters, to best the beasts below and bring the ship home, with no food, water, and no aid from his father. Tarble would have to survive on his own, prove himself a male worthy of being called 'Iron Born'. Vegeta himself had been but a boy of ten when his father took him far beyond the islands into open sea. For days they travled without a heading, until a storm brewed in the distance. The strength and fortitude it takes—to sail a ship by one's self in a storm, with beasts at your back, it beyond daunting. But he had survived it, all while his father lay in the hull.

It was the worst five days and nights of his life, and yet the best. A boy rowing into a storm, through it, while beasts battered against the sides, and then coming back a man. The pride his father had looked upon him spoke thousands of words that no Saiyan would dare speak out loud.

Vegeta would have taken Tarble himself when he was ready, however with Pepanos' grand visions and wars. This was not possible. Tis why he chose to bring the whelpling, as he called himself, along. His first battle, first war, first trial of masculinity. This war was not just for the legends to be written; it was to separate the Saiyans from the weaklings. He knew Tarble would not let him down.

-x-

Thirteen days of endless sailing into the open seas, the fleet at his back and the Islanders rowing along side him, Vegeta led his Iron Born warriors towards the Great Maelstrom. At first glance of it, a simple squall storm at the horizon in the afternoon gaze. But as they grew closer, the monster it was stretched far beyond sight. There was no sky beyond. The clouds stretched out their dark hands and battered down the sea. The water ran black as the current changed. The sails had to be taken down when the rippling wind whistled into their path.

There was no sky above nor sea below. The end of the world. The entrance into the underworld. The realm of the gods. What ever name you call it, it truly looked it. Not ten miles away and already the seas became deadly. The ship bobbed up and down, water needed to be bailed out. No flight animals flew overhead. Death danced on the air as did the taste of fear.

Vegeta stood upon the tip of the mast, looking out into the one thing he as a Sealord feared, the gods. He could see them, the Bringer of Light, daring them to enter the darkness which he did not rule. The Goddess of Death licking her fingers, ready to devour their bones, and the God of War, demanded he make this fight worth the effort of skinning their hides. He could also see the ghost of the warriors he has killed in his lifetime, ready to embrace him, to being him into the afterlife. To drink, fight, and whore forevermore in the afterworld.

"Wait for me, brothers." He smirked as he flew into the air, watching the Berserker of Lighting crash his bolts onto the air while the Lord of the Sea smashed his war hammer into the waves. Below he was certain the Shaker of the Earth pounded his chest, waiting for the challenge.

On his shoulder, he hears the Goddess of Wisdom whisper, warning him his pride had grown too far, she would not condone such a challenge. To break into the realm of the gods was to cheat death. No mortal has ever gone thought and lived to tell the tale. Not yet.

Floating down, he looked at his men as they slowed the rowing. Each in his trust, each of the same teaching as himself. If anyone could make it through the storm, it was them. Taking his armor off as they did, he stood in his dark black Shendyt kilt, throwing his father's red and black muscle cuirass down into the hull, he looked at his men. As the rain began to fly in the wind, he called for a complete stop and another ship sailed towards them.

"Lord Vegeta." Another chief slid his ship alongside to exchanged words, "Should we not take the ship and fly over into the atmosphere, tis what Pepanos has ordered. Behind us already the flying vessels are coming."

"Are we not Sealords?" Vegeta smirked. "Should we not prove our might? Any mere Saiyan can fly above, but a true Sealord would sail straight through and prove his might. Are you afraid, Lord?"

The male raised his chin and narrowed his gaze, "No."

"Now, please, speak now, if you wish to save your men, fly above and choose cowardice. Saves me the trouble of denouncing you to the other Sealords. Prove yourselves a disappointment to your fathers."

"We will follow you, Lord Vegeta, to the ends of the world. We will sail."

"Good." He smirked, offering his hand, "Don't die." He chuckled as they shook hands. The other Sealords and their ships came to the same understanding as the fleet of Mainlanders were lifted into the sky by flying the bulky ships not made for sea travel.

"Iron Born," he turned to his men as they sat ready to row into the storm, "This is what we were born for! We are the beasts of the seas; we are the ones the gods will fight in this storm." He pointed to the sky, already the vessels were flying over the storm to evade damage, "Look at those cowards! Are they even worthy of the name 'Saiyan'? Our tribe has come here to the ends of the world—not to unify a people, but to bring glory and honor to our names! We are the only ones here worthy of the songs our females will sing to our children. Our descendants will be fed on our legends. This is the true age of Saiyan warriors. We will prove our might against the gods, can you hear them? We will show them what we can do, all together. We are greater than any army, we are Iron Born! Who are you?"

The men all roared together, raising their fists in the air. Proud of their heritage.

"If we should die tonight, then we shall all die together. My warriors, the greatest honor of my life has been to be your Sealord, to train, fight, and kill together just as our fathers and grandfathers did. If I see you in the afterworld—we will drink the cosmos dry, we will lie in the beds of the gods' famous lovers, and we will feast on the gods' ambrosia. We will not stop until the gods throw us out—perdition, can't handle all of us!"

His men laughed and cheered his name. The waves began to rock higher; the rain became like ice and blades as the clouds blanketed the sky.

"If we live, let the legends be written that the Iron Born are the ones who bested the gods and escaped death. Not even the King of Kings, who sits dry and happy in his ship just now, can claim that! What lies beyond this storm is simple—**_immortality_**. Take it, it's yours my warriors!"

Tarble looked up at him in wonder, sitting down into the oars, ready to row with the men. Like a son watching his father inspire the men, Tarble too roared in excitement, ready to best the gods. This is what a true leader sounded like, leading his men into battle, suffering and mayhap even dying with them.

"We do not have the wind, but we have our courage!" flying up, Vegeta pointed to the other Sealords and their men, "All together!" he roared as the sky darkened and the lighting crashed above them. "Hoist the Colors!" he cried.

Mato ordered with a hardened battle cry, "Hoist the colors! Let the gods know who comes to challenge them! Vegeta, Chief of the Iron Islands!"

The other lord's colors proudly and defiantly were raised to gain the gods' anger as the warriors began to row into the storm. Lighting crashed and the roar of the sea deafened their ears. Had they been children such a sound would have make them cry for their mothers. But they are Saiyans. In the darkness, their tongues tickled with the taste of fear and blood, their souls ignited.

"Put your backs into it!" Vegeta commanded as he displaced one of the men and began to row with them. "Row!" he chanted as the waves grew to beastly size, tossing the ships as thought a child playing with a toy.

Aloft in the crest, one of the ships of another tribe capsized, the men screaming for their lives as the water sucked them under. Many tried to fly away to only be slammed down into the waved by the howling wind. The storm took on the face of the god of Seas, his darkened face angered by their defiance. They dared to enter his domain.

"You cannot kill us!" Vegeta declared to the lightning and thunder ahead, "We are gods among mortals! Sealords will conqueror the storm! Row you bastards! Row!"

For hours Vegeta and his men battled the sea, as did the lords who followed. The storm did not break as the God of the Seas stood with the God of Storms, throwing all they had at them. Waves crashed, rain pelted, and the wind howled with the Goddess of Death as she blew her horn. There would be no ushering of these men to their deaths. Above the God of Light betted against his brothers, he had no faith in the mortals, however watching his brothers lose to them was an intriguing possibility.

The Goddess of Wisdom watched from afar, shaking her head at the foolishness of Saiyans' ego. They had no plan, just the desire to survive, to prove. Tis not why she favors them, tis not why she offers judgement when the most need it. Above the storm, the army floated with the flying ships, watching as the storm thrashed and whipped their comrades around.

Try as they might, Vegeta who now steered at the helm, using all his strength and Ki to keep his ship in the correct direction. Goddess of Wisdom herself stood at his side in his trial as he navigated in a dark storm as a child. He is a master at navigation, he would never be veered off course. Hiding her face, she sent a guiding hand towards Vegeta, giving him aid, though how unworthy he was, setting off into this storm.

Invigorated with a burst of confidence and strength, Vegeta roared to the heavens as his ships sailed through the storm, the other Sealords behind, keeping in tight formation, never leaving his course. Together they would survive.

The God of Seas raised his arms in one last challenge, sending an impossible wave for the mortals to climb before the waters break. He laughed at their doom, calling his son, the God of War from his bed, ready to drink of their foolish blood.

"Milord?" Mato yelled in the wind as the impossible behemoth wave began to form.

"We will make it." Vegeta vowed, pressing his Ki into the rudder, sending it under the hull, into the keel, into every part of this ancient ship, carved by his forbearers. The ship his father taught him on, the same one he died on! "We are the Beast of the Seas!" he roared as the ship flew into the waters, racing against the waves and time.

The song of their deaths began to play by the goddess herself, she danced alongside them in the rippling rain, her yellow eyes violently swimming with their demise so close. Horn at her lips, she played the siren song, it warned of their deaths. But they did not tremble, they let it fuel them. Besting death is what a Saiyan lives for. With each battle won, they only grew stronger. With the mightiest of warriors at the helm, they would live.

Shaking his head in defiance towards the Goddess, Vegeta laughed, "Death can wait! Immortality is ours!" Vegeta vowed as the crest dared to billow. Releasing all his might, showing his men how a true Lord of the Sea faces death, the ship bounded over the breakwater. Followed by the remaining ship of the Sealords who mimicked his decisive Ki control.

The Sea God grumbled and kicked in his loss. Cursing the men, wanting their head on his table and their blood in his cup as the storm showed its end. The light breaking through the clouds. The rain grew gentle, and the waters lightened. The God fell under his darkened waters, blood red eyes marked on Vegeta and Vegeta only. Cursing the mortal for his defiance.

Bringer of Light laughed happily, sending rays of sunlight to dry them in conquest.

Steering his ships into the calm eye of the storm, Vegeta took in a struggled breath. Pulling his Ki back in, he realized his hands had gripped the ancient wood so hard, it had withered into dust. Wiping his hands on his bare chest he turned to see what he had conquered. Counting his ships, he raised his hands in triumph. Only three ships, 20 crew, had been lost. Out of 16 vessels.

"Hail Vegeta!" Mato cried, raising his oar in delight. The Saiyans around him made noised and celebrated, hitting their hands on the hull of the ships, raising their sheild in solute. Chanting his name.

"Vegeta, Breaker of Storms, Defiler of Gods! Hail Vegeta!" the men cried.

Panting, Vegeta hid his frazzled nerves, had he done one thing wrong, they would have died, and no victory would have been won. Tossing back his head, he shook out his tall spiked hair, hating how it lay against his skin wet. The sky looked as though a sunrise was imminent, thought it was well past sundown on the other side of the storm.

Tarble, waterlogged and soggy stood up from his seat and on shaking legs came to stand before him. Idiot. Should have removed his cuirass and tunic, rowed bare-chested as the others did. But he was forgiven for ignorance.

Throwing his arm around Tarble's shoulders, Vegeta smiled widely, "That is how you best a god, cousin!" with his other hand he mused the boy's wet locks, shaking them dry. "I believe you have now just become an Iron Born warrior."

"Truly? But it was not the same as tradition! It was not the same as you or our fathers'." His excitement drowned knowing he had not navigated on his own, but with the aid of many.

Shoving his cousin away, Vegeta wiped his face down with his hand, the excess water pooling onto the deck, "Do you wish to be sent back on your own?" he raised his brow.

Tarble's skin turned green, "No."

Smiling once again he patted Tarble's shoulders, "You have been tested and have been tried true. You are Iron Born now." Fist to Tarble's heart, Vegeta pressed into him. "Make your father proud, cousin."

Tarble smirked and nodded, "I will never let you down, Vegeta."

Sighing, he took his cousin by the shoulders, staring into his dark eyes, "Me you may disappoint, the legacy of your father you must never insult, you will forever be your father's son, do not dishonor his memory. Dishonor me as your lord, curse me as your cousin, hate me, disown me—but never tarnish your legacy; when the time comes for our bones to turn to dust, it is all we have. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Good," slapping his face happily, Vegeta strode across the deck to stand at the Bow, arms out, he basked in the sunlight.

Breathing in the light air flavored with victory. Already the fleet was being dropped off by the flying ships. They had missed the action. Hand on his hips, he called for the sails to be raised. The wind had already changed.

He could feel the war coming, the battles to be won. It heated his blood.

He and the other Sealords joined the dry and drunk fleet. They had spent their time idle and happy. Tossing over skins of wine and baskets of food, they laughed and mocked the weary Iron Born. However, idiotic and cowardly they had proven themselves to be.

Sailing past the fleet, Vegeta drank from the skins and called to Mato to stand at his side. The map having been lost in the storm, to Mato's shame. However, there was no need of it now. Vegeta with his arm slung around Mato's shoulder stared out into the massive joining of islands ahead of them. Not so different from the Iron Islands, though larger. The storm surrounded it, miles out, good sea water abundant with sparkling life below fed them. The largest of the islands, the interior one, jutted up into the sky, crested in white.

Already the sounds of warning bells filled the air. Smaller vessels, tiny to one's eyes this far away, raced inland. They had been spotted. Already Vegeta saw the infamous walls of the Misty Island. They surrounded the inner island, protecting it. Challenging him to break them down. That is where the tribe's people would run. Abandon their smaller villages for the safety and protection of the walls.

"Would you have a look at that!" Mato laughed, pointing to the left, to one of the smaller islands, free of foliage, a simple beach, with an impressive temple jutting out into the sea. The statue of the Sea God standing in the waters, his hands stretched forth, summoning the maelstrom. "We bested the God of the Seas outside his own temple!"

"He'll want revenge." Vegeta laughed at the god's face. "Bring it on!" turning towards the helm master, he ordered, "Faster."

"Should we wait for the fleet? We're already miles ahead of them. Could take hours for them to reach the shore. Pepanos' orders were to attack together."

"He brought us here for war, let the servants fight for him. By the time they get there the defenses will be up and our attack thwarted. The wind is with us, go!" with the sails propelling them forward, Vegeta and his men dressed for battle. Swords at the ready, sheild slung on the backs.

On the massive ship carrying Pepanos, having himself dressed in his armor by his serving wenches, he spied the thirteen fastest ship pulling ahead in the wind, flying like devils on the water. Stepping forward he demanded to know who dared push on ahead.

His right hand snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Black Colors, it's Vegeta and the Island Tribes. They're at least half an hour ahead of the fleet. Their sails are reversed, instead of working against the wind like we are, it's moving them forward!"

"What does he think he is doing? Taking the minor islands with less than two hundred men?! Already the warning bells toll. Look above the city! Men are flying in to be armed. The bastard can't do this to me!"

Pulling his father's Chalcidian helmet over his head, the visor protecting the slope of his nose, Vegeta turned and looked at Tarble. The boy bounced in excitement, his blood raging. "Put down your sheild."

"Cousin! I'm fighting at your side." Tarble stepped forward to say more, instead Vegeta held his hand up to silence him.

"Not today."

"I am ready, you taught me yourself."

"You are a good student, but I say no."

"You just named me _Iron Born_!"

Groaning like a father having to repeat himself once again, he took his cousin's shoulder and forced him to look at the battle hardened Saiyans ready for attack. "Look at our brothers, they are the fiercest soldiers in the world, each of them has bled for me. You will guard the ships once we take the beaches."

"This is a war! Vegeta!"

Pulling Tarble close, Vegeta whispered harshly the truth, "I can't fight our enemy if I am concerned for you, guard the ship. When we see the powers which we are up against; then I will let you fight."

Shoving Vegeta away, Tarble tossed his sheild down like a petulant child, kicking it to demonstrate how angry he was as he headed for the hull. His eyes blazing with the curses the boy would never mutter to Vegeta's face.

Standing on the v of the bow, Vegeta felt his heart calm as it did before battle. His Ki tingling in his arms, ready to be unleased. Sword at the ready, sheild at his back, the beach of the first minor island ready to be taken. The bells of the Temple tolled, yet no warrior has come to defend her.

The men all cried in readiness as their ships slid easily onto the beach. Flying out in pack of three, the Saiyans searched for defenders. Vegeta leading the charge into the forest. They grey impatient as no one came to battle them. Even as the Temple continued to toll out warnings.

Groaning, Vegeta ordered, "Split up. Cover more ground." Staying his course, he watched as the animals capable of flight few away in groupings, calling out in distress.

He seemed to cover more ground on his own, navigating through the dense forest. No Ki signatures made themselves known, while the bells tolled, no one came to defend. By now the fleet would be nearing the beach. Where is the cavalry? Where are the soldiers?

Spotting a waterfall, thirst made itself known to him. Landing quickly, taking his helmet off he went to wet his tongue. However, his senses shivered. Standing on edge, he sensed something, a near flicker of power. Tail tightened against his waist in agitation. Someone is here. Someone is close.

Standing before the waterfall, Vegeta sensed someone was watching him. This is a place mortals came too, stones placed deliberately in the water to make a bridge. Whoever was here hid in the trees. Slowly, peering with his peripheral vison, he searched for the assailant. Their Ki was low, nearly nonexistent. Not threatening. A child maybe. Pretending to wet his lips with the waters, which to his surprised were sweat, he got a flash of the shadow above. Adult. Too large to be a curious child. Placing his helmet back onto his head, he walked into the mist of the falls and hid behind the waters.

Who ever it was, female or male, they were either too young or too idiotic for their own good and would get themselves killed. Slinking down from the trees and into the tall grasses. He watched, gathering his Ki slowly, making ready to strike. They searched him out. Moving slowly, deliberately checking behind, in front, and at the sides as they slithered on the ground.

As his energy ball gathered in his palm, the creature jumped from stone to stone against the falls, their shadow showing against the water. Not as sound was made between them. Heart pounding, ready to make the first kill of the war, Vegeta waited until their back was to him.

Jumping from the falls and landing in the water he made ready to strike.

The figure stood slowly, turning to face him as the gentle wind pushed the mist shielding them. Slowly, every so agonizingly slow, the Saiyan with the nonthreatening Ki level was presented to him.

Mouth agape, he thought himself dreaming, hallucinating. What stood before him could not be real!

Dropping his hands, the Ki dispersing, Vegeta looked onto the form of a young female. Slim of build, light skin, dressed in a nearly transparent white kalasiris sheath dress held up by two golden straps and end down to the ankle. Her thin tail acting as a cincher for her slim waist. Showing that despite her slim build, she was not without feminine curves, enough to make any lesser male drop to his knees and pray to the goddess of beauty for such a gift before them.

Wearing a gorgerin disk necklace, made of white bone, fitted with a series of blue gems around a larger purple jewel in the center. A face that could not be described by a mere soldier, turned towards him. Heart-shaped face, full lips, thin nose, and the largest eyes ever to look upon this male locked on his.

Her long flowing black hair was smoothed to the back of her head, braided simply into a thick rope, fitted with golden pins for decoration. It lay at the back of her waist bounded. At her small forehead lay a thin gold-plated corolla band, a simple sign of her status. A priestess. Even in his tribe, only priests and priestess wear such a headband.

Stepping forward, he reached out his hand as she stared him down. She was neither frightened nor intimidated as she looked at him. Her eyes held a strength in them he could not look away from. His heart raced as he drew closer to her, she smelled of incents and fruits he did not know the name of. She stood so still as he walked towards her under her gaze.

Yet before he could touch her, she bolted, flying up into the trees.

"Wait!" Vegeta called after her as she flew away.

Giving chase he followed through the thick brush and trees. She took to running as the bells tolled again this time closer. She was indeed a priestess, this close to the temple. She ran with ease through the thickness, when she reached a new river's edge she jumped into a small vessel and took up the paddle to leave.

Jumping into the water he stooped her, "Stop," he warned as she held the paddle up for defense, splashing him with water. Pushing her closer to shore, he lowered his Ki, "It's alright, come out of there." He offered his hand to pull the female from the small vessel. She looked at his hand in a questioning as though she had no clue. "What's your name?"

Her brow rose, lips parted, and then a series of sounds he didn't know came gently from her lips.

"You don't speak the common tongue, do you?" She cocked her head to the side. "You don't understand a word I am saying." Crouching down to her level, he held onto the side of her boat and pulled her closer to the rocks on the shore where he stood, "My name is Vegeta." He pointed to himself with his free hand and then motioned to her. She stared inquisitively at him, so he tried again, "Vegeta…"

Blinking, she leaned in, "Eschalot." It was a whisper, a gentle combination of sounds that seemed to appear and disappear in the mere moment of her speaking it.

"What did you say?"

"My name is _Eschalot_." She spoke again, hand to her chest to prove she had spoken the common tongue. "You are Vegeta." Her hand then touching his chest as she mimicked his attempts to get her name.

"Give me your hand." He asked for it once again. "I won't hurt you."

Her dark round eyes stared at his wide hand, and then shifted up to him. He could see her curiosity about him as he held for her. The first Saiyan of the Misty Islands to be seen in person for hundreds of years. No doubt she has never seen another tribesman before. He noticed the marking on her shoulders, ancient designs he could hardly understand, for the technique had become ancient to his people.

Slowly she put the paddle down and reached for his hand. Careful, wondering if he would attack once she trusted him, her eyes studied him, daring him to break the trust. At first touch of her delicate and soft skin Vegeta wanted her. His body roared as her essence filled his senses. The desire to possess her above all other females in existence shoved at his instincts. So very much unlike him and yet greater than anything he has ever beheld in his life. Swallowing hard whilst he aided her. She moved so gracefully, so natural.

Standing before him Eschalot lent her head back to keep their gaze connected. He is not a tall male compared to many others, however he dwarfed her completely.

"I have never seen a more beautiful female." He whispered unknowingly to her; his fingers gently cupped the side of her face as she continued to stare into his eyes.

Framed by long black lashes, her eyes widened in captivation. He could hear her heart pounding as she took their joined hand, raising them at the elbow, spreading their fingers, until they were palm to palm. Only then did her gaze shift from his form to their hands. His larger callused hand dwarfed hers. Skin smooth against his.

She was not a warrior; from her palm he could tell. Nothing about her was threatening, power level low, hardly recognizable to his senses. She was young, that he could tell, and inexperienced. She stood unmoving against him as she looked him over, wandering from their hands to the shape of his jaw, the curve of his brow, even to the way he wrapped his tail around his waist.

Her blood rose in her skin as her breathing changed. She smelled of sweetness, flowers and freshness. Gently he pressed his thumb to her lips, tracing the delicate curve. She leaned into his touch; her skin cold against his warmth.

Questions formed as she dropped their paired hands. She looked ready to speak again. Licking her lips, she formed a word—before she could speak, Ki blasts interrupted her. Before he could grab for her, she jumped away, flying instead of taking the boat. She flew up into the mists as his men came crashing into the river. Swords at the ready, another blast forming in one's hands.

"Milord, what was that?"

"A female." Vegeta admitted to them, whipping his betraying look of intrigue from his face, looking at his men, "A _gorgeous_ female." Watching her flight pattern, her knew where to find her.

Find her he would.

Take her.

Keep her!

"To the temple!" he ordered, jumping up to chase after his priestess.

It was there they finally met with some resistance. Soldiers poured down from the high mountains to defend their beaches. The Fleet slowly was making its way close. Already some soldiers gave up their posts rowing to take flight and join the battle.

It was glorious. Sheild battering sheild, sword against sword, Saiyan against Saiyan. Midair Vegeta released a large assault on the wave of men, blasting many with his potent strikes. Choosing his target, a large and powerful opponent, he blasted with his most powerful attack, denigrating him within moments.

"My lord!" Mato joined him, back to back they found as they did, like brothers. Having trained together since youth, they knew what the other would do before they even thought of it.

Such a glorious way to spend a sunny afternoon!

Landing on the shoulder of the grand statue of the god whom he knew watched from his storm, Vegeta raised his sword to the heavens, willing his Ki to become one with the metal, stretching the weapon far beyond the tip, making it apart of himself. Eyes on the horizon he dared to stare the god down as he sliced the god's head in effigy, making it tumble into the water.

Lighting crashed overhead. But still the god did not strike him down. "Do it!" he ordered, baring his chest and neck. "For my insolence and disobedience, kill me!"

When the gods did not bend to his will, Vegeta laughed in their faces.

In a coalition of five, Vegeta entered the sacred temple to the gods. Finding the five priests kneeling before the statues in prayer. Dressed in white and glittering with gold. He walked about the darkened chamber, listening to them speak in a tongue long forgotten before the statues of the deities. Eyes upturned towards the heavens in the oculus. Daring to do so, Vegeta sat on the very throne one of them would have sat in place of the gods, as an empty vessel to do the god's bidding.

Each of the males, all old, had no Ki.

Curious.

Even as his men threatened them, dared to cut them down they remained in prayer, they did not falter in prayer. Mato in his anger cut one's tail off, nothing. No reaction whilst deep in devotion. Leaning on his knees, Vegeta stared into the dark eyes of the high priest before him.

"The gods won't save you." He whispered menacingly to him. "The gods want no part in our war, even if we anger them, they won't save you." The male did not falter. To make a pint, Vegeta nodded to Mato who immediately and without hesitation killed the priest at his feet. Blood coated the floor. "Do you hear me priest? No one will save you."

Another man was cut down.

It wasn't until the high priest was left that his chanting ended. His old and weathered face came down to look upon his capture, "I was not praying for me boy— I was praying for your soul, as black as it is. May the gods have pity on you when you finally meet your end."

"Thank you, however; tell them not today!" Smirking, he placed his hand in front of the male's face and shot him right through the eye, killing him.

-X-

But the end of the hot afternoon, the front islands and their beaches belonged to the army of Pepanos. Who happily exclaimed as he stormed the beaches with his men, a great victory for his kingdom. Already trees had been felled and moved to make the encampment. The bells no longer rang to call the people into her walls. The Misty Islands were firmly under attack. Vegeta and his men spent the afternoon gathering the dead of the enemy fitting them into a great pile and then setting them on fire. Not before taking their armor and weapons. Ancient as they were, still affective. They also looted the Temple, taking the wine sacraments and gold from the temple.

Vegeta spent a great deal of time staring into the eyes of the statues before breaking them with his fists. Daring the gods to strike him, to challenge him, or better yet send him an ordeal to endure. From which he would grow stronger. He guessed he was right, after defying the gods in the maelstrom, the gods would not interfere in this war of mortals.

Tarble had served him well, having set up the camp for the Iron Born, their colors flying high. As Vegeta walked with Mato, he observed not a single blade nor blast had marked his skin. Covered in other's blood, he strolled into his camp with the cheers of his men. He spoiled them with ransacked wine from the temple, the gods would not be drinking tonight!

"Long live Vegeta, bringer of wine!" one male exclaimed as he took a barrel for himself.

"Much more to come my Iron Born, you fought well, we shall drink until dawn!" he exclaimed as he walked into his camp. "Not one of the islanders have been struck down today!"

"I have something for you." Mato smirked as he ushered Vegeta into his personal tent, "A gift." Mato laughed as Vegeta looked upon his escaped priestess tied to the center pole of his tent. "We found her hiding in the temple." Her eyes widened as a whimper escaped her perfect lips as she spied them enter. Fighting to get away she pulled and pushed to be released. Fear wafted off of her, diluting the pure scent she had in the forest. She may have been afraid, but there was fight in her eyes.

"Leave us." He ordered; his eyes did not leave the lovely Eschalot as she struggled against her bonds.

Her hair had been disrupted, clinging to the dampness of her neck and arms. Blood, not her own however, caked her white garment. The purity she had been not hours ago tarnished with tears and fear. He could taste the saltness of her tears laced with the bitterness of fear.

Harsh black eyes glared daggers at him.

"Are you hurt?" he questioned as he untied his breastplate. "If you are, tell me who touched you." He would tare the male limb from limb if she was violated in any way. She was his alone. That much he knew deep into his bones.

Fresh tears fell down her rounded cheeks as she shifted against the bonds, with a shaking breath she spoke, "You _killed_ the Sea God's priests!"

"I kill many males." Pulling his tunic and Shendyt kilt from his sore and sweaty body, standing naked before her, letting his tail down from his waist, he went to the jug of water to clean off the blood. "It is what soldiers do."

Her eyes did not leave his form for a moment, not caring if her priestess eyes looked upon a naked male in all his warrior glory, covered in the blood of her tribesmen, "The god shall have his vengeance."

Smirking he played with her devotion as he poured the water down over his neck and shoulders, ribbons of blood flowed down his back and legs, "What is he waiting for?"

"The _right_ time to strike."

"His priests are dead, and his acolyte is a captive. I think _your_ god is afraid of me."

"Afraid? He is master of the seas! Patron god and protector of this tribe."

"Where is he? Bid him strike me down, he is already angered with me for besting his Maelstrom! Twice in one day I violated his protection of your tribe."

She spat back with her own anger and spiteful venom, "You are nothing but a killer! You wouldn't know anything about the gods."

Scoffing, he faced her again, hands on his trim hips, tail swinging in agitation and interest. Such an intriguing female, a demure acolyte and yet a feisty vixen. She kept his gaze, despite his body showing interest in her. Not once in this exchange has she dared to look below his waist. It would be hard not to notice, she did not turn red and fake coyness.

"I know more about the gods than your priests, I've seen them." Approaching her, taking up and tying his covering around the waist, "You're royalty, aren't you? Spent years talking down to males." Taking her hair, he smelled the perfumes, "You must be royalty." Unbounding her hands, he sat next to her, "Are you afraid, Eschalot?"

Rubbing her delicate wrists, soothing the ache, she scooted away from his hot breaths, "Should I be?"

Mato took that moment, the wrong moment, to slither his way into the tent, "Milord, the kings and lords are gathering to celebrate the victory in Pepanos' tent."

"Leave us." Vegeta spoke directly without looking away.

When they were left alone, Eschalot finally broke their heated gaze, sighing she wrapped her arms around her chest and looked at him with disinterest, "What are you here for on our islands?"

Smirking, he spoke slowly, "What all Saiyans want"—he watched her tremble as his eyes observed her glorious body though the seer fabric of her bloodied dress, selfishly enjoying the view of her bosom pushed high thanks to her positioning— "**glory** in battle."

"What is an _army_ of Saiyans doing on my island?" she rephrased the question, sitting up straighter and dropping her arms.

"Uniting all the Saiyans under one banner." He snorted, "Some bullshit like that, priestess." Looking away, Vegeta stood back up, "You don't need to fear me, Eschalot, you are the only one who can say that."

Dressing in his light weight Shendyt and cuirass, he pondered his captive female. She stayed where she had been placed. Her eyes fixated on the dwelling exit, yet she made no move to try and escape. Wiping her tears away she seemed to cower, too afraid to make a run for it and fly away for safety. If she tried, he would force her down into submission, enjoy the fight he knew she had in her despite her lack of Ki.

Her apparent weakness bothered him greatly, it formed an inch under his chin that no matter how hard he cleared his throat, he could not get at. In a moment of annoyance, he growled out, "Why do you not use your Ki and escape?!" he questioned.

"I have none," she snorted towards his ignorance, pulling her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them, "When I became a priestess, I gave my Ki in service to the gods. I am only capable of small bursts of flight."

"How is that possible?"

"You know _nothing_ of my tribe." Her eyes drifted from his body to the armor at his feet, blood dripping down the etchings of muscles, her gaze lingered on the ship imagery at the shoulders, "You're a Sealord."

Smirking, he stood above her, sheathing his sword and curling his tail around his waist, "If I know nothing of your tribe what do you _dare_ claim to know of **mine**?"

She remained silent. Holding his gaze in defiance. Reaching down, he touched the tip of her nose with one large finger, she pulled away from his offending touch. Still holding his gaze, she dared him to touch her again with an arch of her dark brow. Resisting the urge too, he smirked inwardly, knowing very well if he did, his little priestess would prove herself a biter. However, the idea seemed more tempting if just to see her feistiness rise in her eyes once again.

"Stay here, you're under my protection."

"Because I have no need to fear you, _Vegeta_?"

"Precisely, _Eschalot_."

Outside his tent he ordered Tarble to not enter his dwelling and to stand guard and make sure no one entered. He would have the female to himself. Walking on his own, he headed towards the king's ship. Already the festivity began, songs forming at fires in honor of the first victory. Tomorrow they planned to take the whole island.

Male and females cheered his praises as he passed them. Smirking he bowed his head in gratitude. Daring to take the complement whilst the servants of the fool king watched. Let them know who the true conqueror is. They would not dare strike him down in defense of their king, they feared him and the respected him.

Climbing aboard the monster of a ship, covered in furs and smelling of meats and wines, Vegeta scoffed at the uselessness this ship was. A deal of waisted coin was spent on its construction, meant to be seen but not used. A stage to which play his role as king. While Vegeta and the other Sealords sailed on wooden ships their ancestors carved from sacred trees by hand.

Pepanos sat upon a fur lined throne, dressed in finery accepting gifts from his subjugated kings. Thanking him for their loyalty and offering sweat words of days to come. Vegeta stood at the back of the line, free of a gift, but with plenty of smug smiles to bathe the fool with. Cabua stood amongst the lords, holding his helmet under his arm. For all his songs and venom, Cabua is one of the finest kings Vegeta has ever known. The way which he looked upon the King of Kings, he too thought this 'victory' was being showered upon the wrong man.

Zuchin, the last warlord to be put into submission knelt at Pepanos' feet and kissed his hands, "You have won a great victory my King of Kings, who would have thought the first island of the Mists could be captured so easily?"

"Thank you, my friend, tomorrow we shall feast in the palace of the Tribe Chief." As if blessing the old enemy, Pepanos' touched his head in a priestly manor and his smile widened. But then his old eyes locked on Vegeta's smirking face and all his humility was swallowed by hatred. "Leave us." He ordered all in the room.

No one dared speak to him as they left the tented ship, save for Cabua who smiled and shook his hand, "War is young males dying and old talking. Ignore the politics, you know that." Cabua laughed as he slapped Vegeta's shoulder.

"Leave us." Pepanos asked again as leaned back in his grand throne.

"It appears you've won some sort of victory?"

"Ah, yes, did you not notice?" Pepanos smirked, taking up a cup offered by a serving wench, knelt at is side, hands outspread with a tray balanced. A living piece of furniture at his feet. "The first islands and her sands belonged to the Mist tribe in the morning and to me in the afternoon." As if to point out what Vegeta heard in his venom tipped words, Pepanos stated, "Mine."

Stepping forward, arms crossed over his shoulder, "You can have the islands I did not come here for land."

"No," Pepanos laughed, "You came here because you want your name to last for a millennium. A great victory was won here today," Pepanos leaned forward like a mother giving a lecture, "But it was not yours, kings did not _kneel_ **before** _Vegeta_, kings do not write the histories in _honor_ **of** _Vegeta_."

With one brow raised, Vegeta calmly said with laughter in his tone, "Perhaps the kings where too far away to see, my soldiers won the battle."

"_History_ remembers kings not soldiers." He stood up and pushed his cloak out of the way as he approached Vegeta, "Tomorrow we shall batter down the gates of the High Walls, I will conqueror the whole of Planet Salada. I will build monuments to my victory in every city. I shall carve '_Pepanos'_ in the stone in my honor. I am Pepanos, King of Kings, King of all Planet Salada. And then I will send you back to that fishing village you dare call your tribal lands."

Eyes widened; anger boiled for he dared disrespected the Iron Islands. To remind him of his importance, Vegeta stated; "Caution, King of Kings, first you need the victory."

Sighing, Pepanos blinked and then stepped away, "Your men sacked the Temple of the Seas."

"You want the spoils? Take it, it's yours. Take anything you want. My gift to honor _your_ **great **_victory_."

"I already have." His smile, a self-satisfying smile filled his features. Before Vegeta could even fathom what that disgusting tone meant, he called forth his men.

The sound of female struggles filled the room. Two soldiers led her aboard. Anger heated his blood as he saw his female, his priestess, his Eschalot be shoved onto the covered deck. Dress nearly falling down her chest in the struggle, arms twisted in painful grips, her hair pulled free and wild. But what angered him the most was the blood staining her lips. They had dared touch what was his. Had bruised her face and bloodied her. Tears fell down her cheeks as she fought for her freedom but could not muster the strength to fight back.

"Spoils of war." Pepanos dared to laugh in his face, for he knew whom she belonged when he called for her. He dared take his plundered treasure after he had already offered her protection.

"Brothers, if you value your lives, you will let her go." He warned them, "**_Decide_**."

"Guards." Pepanos called.

Unsheathing his sword, Vegeta made ready to take back his female, killing all in this chamber if he must to reclaim her. His lust for bloodshed and for her swirled into one rage. Ki swelled in his body, boosting his strength and muscles. The animal that lived within all Saiyans dared to rear its ugly head if the female was not released back into his care. She needed tending, water, food, and safety. She was weak compared to all, something that need a gentle hand and protection. No one, not even the gods themselves, but he could do that. He would give his lifeblood in order to protect his female for all time.

"Stop!" Eschalot cried, pushing free of her capture's hands, staring into his eyes, commanding him to yield with tearful blackened eyes, "too many Saiyans have died today." She glared at him with wide and bruised eyes, "If killing is your only talent then that is your curse. I will not have anyone die for me."

She did not want his protection, his strength to save her. His blood ran cold at the defiance in her eyes. She didn't seek him for fortification. Even as she trembled and wept, she asked for nothing. Groaning, he sheathed his sword, giving into her demand.

Clapping in delight, the bastard king smiled, "The mighty Vegeta, **_silenced_**, by a salve?" Pepanos laughed as he stepped towards her, "Tonight, I'll have her give me a bath, and then later, I'll find out if her tribe keeps virgins as priestesses or not." Touching the side of her face with his unworthy fingers, she grimaced and shrank away.

"Bastard!" Cursing him, Vegeta turned his back on Pepanos in anger. Scrubbing his hands down the back of his neck he growled in unquenched desires to possess the female, protect, and keep. "One day, king of kings, one day. Before my time is up, I shall look upon your corps and smile." He growled at Pepanos who dared to wrap his arms around the whimpering female.

She had closed her eyes out of preservation.

All of his might is what it took to walk out of the king's ship without killing him. Leaving her there. Abandoning her, when everything in his primal senses screamed to take her. Walking back towards his camp, fighting his urges, not even beheading the first foolish soldier who attempted to praise him quieted his heart.

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To be Continued...

Word Count: 8,832

Page Count: 17


	3. Part Three

The Legend of Vegeta

Part Three

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Killing the last of the soldiers from the Mist tribe who had been captured for information, Pepanos poured himself another cup. For hours this soldier, this Saiyan refused to answer question pertaining to the island and her tribe. About the defensives and cavalry, who is the leader. But finally, he broke and betrayed his tribe and people. Thinking he would be spared.

Simpleton.

As his blood pooled onto the sands and the rising tide washed it away, Pepanos returned to his ship and stared up at the high walls of the citadel. Armed with the finest archers, trained by the god of war himself. The chief, Ion, thought himself safe.

"This Chief Ion is an old fool." He spoke the name of his enemy with a chuckle, "Thinking he cannot be touched behind his high walls—as if the gods would protect him. Using the Ki his people are ritualistically stripped of as a power source for his army."

His right hand, a male named Radillt closed the ancient book, the very same one they had plundered from the Goddess of Wisdom's citadel, "From the histories, the Misty Islands have never been conquered because of this practice of Ki-stripping, his people are weakened so his soldiers are twice as powerful. From their legends, some would say that they can't be conquered. They are the greatest soldiers to ever be trained."

"The gods only protect the strong! I control the world! Once Mist falls, I will name myself king of all the planet and her inhabitants."

"His son Iono leads the finest army we will ever come up against. The island and her natural barriers and their walls are capable of lasting out a siege the likes of which we did not plan for. We can't fly over and simply drop out warriors into battle. They have the high ground and the upper hand. The rivers are our only option to attack by."

"There will be no need for a siege! We are attacking with the greatest collection of powers the world has ever seen. History is being written of us. I want all the kings and warlords with their men ready for battle at dawn. Get the message out."

Before he left. Radillt sighed, "One last thing, we need Vegeta and his Iron Born."

"Vegeta," he whispered his name with hatred and venom, "He can't be controlled! Now that he believes his honor has been chided; he is as likely to fight us as the enemy."

Radillt sighed, despite the power Pepanos had amassed in his lifetime, he was indeed a fool when it came to admit he needed aid from those he despised. Kings do not need many allies, but they needed friends. "My king, we do not need to control him—we need to unleash him. That male was born to end lives."

Stepping towards his comrade, "Yes, he is a gifted soldier, a tactical leader, a _perfect_ killer but he threatens everything I built. Before me Salada was nothing, I brought all the tribes and kingdoms together, I created a nation with a common identity and ideology out of heathens and primitives. I am building the future, me! Vegeta is the past, a Saiyan who fights for no one but his banner, loyal to no one."

"How many battles we won off the edge of his sword? You said so yourself, this will be the greatest war we have ever seen, we need the greatest warrior. You watched as he took the beaches yesterday, we need him."

"We need him like the gods' need acolytes." Pepanos sighed, his eyes drifting away.

Speaking of which. "My king, he'll want the female back."

"I am not giving that animal anything!" tossing the goblet of wine away, Pepanos roared for Radillt to leave him.

Radillt bowed at the waist before excusing himself from the ship.

Shaking with anger and chasing away the bite of fear on his tongue, Pepanos pulled back the coverings of his makeshift tent, staring up at the wide open and moonless sky. He should have sailed sooner, before the moon made her traditional escape from their sights for the year. He should have ended this war with the Great Ape form the gods had blessed them with. He would not need to depend of Vegeta and his men.

But the goddess of the moon shifted course in the late summer and fall months, to join her lover, the Bringer of Light, bask in his glorious heat and make love, birthing the next year of moonlight to bathe the Saiyans in. Until she returns, the Saiyans were not capable of becoming Great Apes. Both sides would have to rely on battle.

Closing the curtain, he poured himself another gobble, drowning himself in it. After he walked to the back chamber, hidden behind the throne. Parting the curtain, he watched his stolen war prize priestess squeal in her bonds against his bed. Flipping about as blood stained her dress. Dark defiant eyes locked on his. Her body was afraid, but her spirit would need some breaking.

Pealing his tunic from his body, he smirked, "Come now, Priestess, I am a king not a heathen." Stepping towards her she pulled at the bonds her weakened Ki-stripped body could not break, "Who better to remove your virgin's robes?"

"I see no king before me." She spat back.

"Then let's have your eyes opened."

-X-

Vegeta sat all night in his darkened tent, drinking. Vile anger boiling in his blood. He dares not sleep, for when he closed his eyes, all he saw was her defiant black hollow eyes, staring him down. Refusing him. Rejecting his attempts to save her from Pepanos. Each moment he relived the sight of that vial man touching his female. The way she grimaced in disgust but could not run away.

His shelter where she had been housed had been defiled, his protection broken. Her scent lingered on his nose; her blood lay on the furs lining the floors. Sitting where she had been, Vegeta stewed in her loss from his protection, from his possession. Even now, as hours passed since his forced march away from her, seeing her in Pepanos' arms he wasn't himself. Not even the wine or the hours spent agonizing over this quieted his blood.

Pouring more wine into his gut he groaned, he wasn't even capable of making himself drunk.

The sun was rising beyond the entrance, he listened to the sounds of the army making themselves ready for battle. The fired died and the voices lifted in anticipation. His father's armor, the black cuirass depicting a Sealord in deep battle on his own against a monster of the sea. The image stared back at him, as did the imagery on his sheild. The story of his trial. A boy at the helm on his own, a storm battering down against him. Stained with the blood of his enemies. His father's helmet, the very same one he was wearing in his final moments faced him. Goading him. Under the darkness of the protection plate he saw the face of his father.

He spoke to him, telling him to get up and fight, a more noble cause was at hand—glory to their name. Yet here he sits, pinning for a woman who belonged to another man.

"You think me weak?" he asked the ghost, spying the scar on his father's eye, cutting into the angle of his cheekbone. "You're the one who brought me here, father, you are the reason I sit here. I have already added honor and blood to our name, our legend. Forgive me if my pride and ego have been bruised. I offered her my protection and that bastard of a king you dared to bend the knee too; broke her trust. I hated him before, but now I could just kill him. But not yet, until that moment comes, I'll defy him. I'll make him suffer the only way I can."

Toasting to his father's unrelenting expression as he disappeared from sight, Vegeta emptied the skin.

"Lord Vegeta?" Mato called outside his hovel. He stood there half the morning, and now he gained the courage to enter, with Tarble at his side. Mato was dressed for battle. Spying him sitting in a drunken mess, Mato was shocked to see his lord as such, "My lord?" Mato approached, "My lord, the army is taking off."

"Let them go, we stay."

"We're ready." Mato did not understand.

Shaking his head, he stood up and smiled at his man, "We're not fighting today, nor another day for Pepanos."

"What are you saying?" Mato's gaze narrowed at him, "If this is about the female—we will get you another; plunder as many females from their homes when we take the tribe. You cannot stay here."

Pointing his finger at Mato, danger brewing in his sharp gaze, "I have been dishonored for the last time by that bastard of a king. I will not fight for him, let him for once lead his own men, fight, and die with them."

"We are his greatest warriors, if you make us stay you are denying your people their honor!"

"We stay until Pepanos cries out to have Vegeta back. Only until then. This tribe will not fall in one day's fight like all these fools believe. We may be here for years! When that male kneels before me; kisses my boots and begs for me to fight for him then we will fight!"

Mato swallowed any argument against him, Vegeta watched as he struggled to adhere to his will. Bowing his head, the smaller male quietly answered, "As you wish." Before he left, he whispered to Tarble, "Change his mind."

Tarble's color dropped. He knew his cousin's words where not to be challenged. Instead of agreeing, the young male stared at his boots. Unable to say anything. Vegeta smirked and went to his small pit fire, taking up a speared cooked fish, eating it quickly. Nothing soothed his anger, mindless eating nor killing would.

Sitting back down, he drank more of his wine. Waiting for Tarble to find his courage as he stood there like an imbecile. "Are you ready to fight? To kill? To shed blood?"

"I am." Tarble answered, raising his head, finally looking Vegeta in the eye.

Shaking his head, he was such an innocent boy, not yet a man. Not matter how many times Vegeta names him anything close, he would always be that child he taught to fly, the boy he taught to fish and sail, and the young man with wide eyes so ready to please and find favor with Vegeta.

His own son in every way and yet not; the only person he loved aside from his mother. "I taught you _how_ to fight, but never _why_ to fight."

"I fight for you, cousin."

"Then who will you fight for after I am gone, when you are Sealord?" he did not allow Tarble an answer, and instead spoke to the ghost of his father that had dispersed, but he knew he remained. "Soldiers fight for kings they have never even met. They do what they are told, they die when they are told to die."

"Soldiers obey." Tarble answered.

Shaking his head, Vegeta waved him off as he sat back down, "Don't waste your life like our fathers, following some fools' orders. Go."

Tarble joined the Iron Born atop the sandy dunes of the beaches taken just hours ago. They watched as the army flew off into battle. Battle cries at their lips and bloodlust in their hearts. From the massive walls at the top, a rain shower of arrows blackened the sky. Ki blasts followed. The first wave without their shields fell to their deaths as the arrows pelted them. Fire ignited the forest below.

The sky became dark as the scent of burnt flesh made the boy nauseous. Ground was cleared and combat ensued. The finest solders from the legendary tribe came forwards in ancient forms. Covered in warpaints of blue and black. Pepanos personally road out on sky-chariot in his golden armor. He shouted orders for his men to advance. Lances and shields up. With one cry from the king, both sides advanced forward in a rush of steel and Ki.

"Pull back you idiot." A familiar voice groaned.

The Iron Born all turned in shock to see their Lord standing with them. Pacing back and forth as the sounds of metal and blasts erupted before them. A scene out of a legendary story he once told to Tarble. It was worse than he could have ever imagined.

"Get them in line!" Vegeta roared as the chaos ensued. Hand to hand combat, Ki blasts that bombarded everyone in its wake, comrades dyeing from misused and ill-advised orders.

One single soldier flew up amongst the fray, painted in blue, his long waving mane of black hair about his body, his arm rose in a silent order. Vegeta knew far too well what was coming.

"You're in range of their archers!" he screamed as once again the sky was blackened with the arrows as they rose from behind the white walls. Zipping through their air, whistling the names of their chosen targets. Lines upon lines of men were hit and fell from their flight patterns and into the burning ground.

Vegeta turned and looked into the black eyes of the Goddess, walking forwards with her hounds behind her. Her horn at her lips, blowing the sickening music for her souls. The hounds, barbed teeth dripping with saliva ran forwards and began to devour the souls of the weak. They cried for their mothers as their immortal souls were shredded. They would not drink in the afterlife, they would be denied entrance and wander the underworld at her entrance, begging.

_All of this could have been avoided, brave Vegeta._ The white armed Goddess of Wisdom said as she stood at his side. Her sheild at her back, long hair plaited with the bones of fingers as pins. Her dark eyes wildly peered into his as she tilted her small chin towards her. _All you had to do was march into battle. _

"And die for a king I hate?" he silently answered her. Hand on his hips, he looked up into the goddess he often heard his father pray too before leaving for battle, "My honor is everything."

_You are not without honor; I have seen to that. I have always favored you, I raised you up on my sheild as a boy, I chose you. Vegeta you are the warrior you are today because I have seen to it. You were meant to come here, even if I do not agree with this siege. _

"I will never fight for him."

The Goddess smiled at him, laughter nearly on her lips, _I said nothing about fighting for him, I said you should have marched. You have a destiny, Vegeta, one you must take up full handedly and walk into the fray. I cannot force you; I am simply here to guide. _

Shifting on his foot Vegeta watched as the other gods, Bringer of Light, God of War, God of the Seas all stood together at the water's edge. Shaker of Earth too stood, his hammer at the ready, jumping up and down on his feet yet never shaking the earth. He and the God of War looked ready to jump into battle, pleaded with Bringer of Light, but the Sky King shook his head and drank of his cop.

"The gods will not fight with us?"

_We will not interfere with this War of Mortals. The Goddess of Death with blow her horn as it is her duties. But none of us shall lift a finger. You live or you die on your own accord, it is not the Gods Wills. I come here as your patron, for I loved your grandfather and your father after him, and I love you—your destiny is at hand. Risk all or lose— the choice is yours. The gods want nothing to do with you. _

Turning on heel, the goddess walked away from him and then vanished into the sea.

Pivoting back, Vegeta witnessed a retreat the like of which no Saiyan would ever admit he had taken part of. The Mist Tribe had taken more ground and now chased the invaders out. Smirking with a drunken sway, Vegeta watched as Pepanos flew towards the ships.

"Archers." Vegeta ordered as men landed behind him. For now, the Mist Soldiers advanced on the beaches. "Archers!" he ordered once again as he walked back down into the encampment. Pushing an injured male out of his way as he headed for his tent.

His eyes caught sight of the golden king, panting, overheated in his useless outfit. He looked like a fool, dishonoring all the Saiyans who had died for him. He screamed like an animal as he ordered in tongues. No one understood. It was Cabua who took charge, standing at the helm like a Sealord. As Vegeta took up another barrel of wine, his eyes locked onto one figure in the sky above. The impressive leader. Their eyes locked for one brief moment.

_He is essential to your destiny_. The goddess' voice sang in his head. _Iono, Prince of the Mist, the greatest warrior possibly alive. Trained at the bosom of the God of War himself. Favored of the gods, as are you. _

Burning desire to take up sword and sheild bloodies his soul as the warrior Prince recalled his men, heading back to the high walls of his kingdom. Vegeta flew up to watch with eagle eyes. Memorizing the features of the prince, taking in his height and form, even from this distance it was easy to since his Ki. Potent, powerful, possibly even larger than his own. His gut rolled in anticipation to test his strength.

Barrel under his arm, Vegeta returned to his dwelling to drink the night away as the men in the field died of their wounds and the others sat about the fires licking their bruised prides.

-X-

In the dead of night, days following the failed attempt to overtake the city walls, Pepanos threw his weight around his chambers. Flying into a complete rage. His army cut in half in half a morning's time! And the Prince dared to send emissaries, to collect his dead. How dare he! Already the bodies of his men lay atop their pyres, burning for the Goddess to take.

Sucking down a tinkered of wine, the King marched from one side of the tent to the other as Cabua and Radillt sat with him. Drinking to the men lost and stewing in his sweltering anger.

"We need the Sealords to fight for us. We have no battle experience in estuaries. Make peace with Vegeta."

"Even if I could make peace with Vegeta, the worm won't listen to me. He's just as likely to blast my head off as he is to speak to me."

Cabua brushed his hand over his lips, "I'll talk to him, but he'll want the girl back."

"He can have the blasted girl! I haven't even touched her. A wild animal scratching and biting. Made the desire for sport wither."

"Where is she?" Cabua asked, interested where this vixen was.

With a wave, he poured more wine, "I gave her to the men; they need something to lift their spirits after today."

Eschalot struggled as she was gripped around the waist and then tossed from one stinking male to the next. They laughed and played with her smaller form. Pulling her hair and ripping what was left of her covering. She did not lose her strength. Biting the hand of the man who palmed her aching arms, she was slapped across the face into the sands.

"Give the cunt to me!" Hands fisted her locks, forcing her up from the ground, blood oozing from a cut on her cheek. Tossing her to the next man who licked one side of her face and then kissed her. His revolting tongue took advantage of her scream and licked the insides of her lips.

Biting down, blood filled her mouth. The man grunted and then pushed her to the ground, falling into the curve of her body. Scratching with what nails she had left, she kicked the male as hands pushed her shoulder to the ground.

"Whose first?" one of them asked.

Hands ripped the top of her bloodied gown, "Look, a virgin's robe." Baring her white breasts to the slobbering animals. Becoming feral, lips sucked at soft flesh, teeth clamped down and threatened to tear.

"She won't be needing that for much longer." The one who loomed over her, bared his rod from under his waist covering, stroking himself to prove the point her virginity was to be lost. Using what strength, she had in reserve, Eschalot sprang forward and cracked him in the head with her skull. The male fell back.

He was replaced instantly by another who backhanded her upside the head, "Whore."

Stunned, a high-pitched ring filled her ears as she laid down motionless in the sand which would become her grave. The female teared as she watched the male disrobe completely. Bathed in the blood of her people, kneeling between her parted thighs as the others argued over who was next as they bruised her skin as she fought. She would die this night at their hands, not before they had ripped her apart from the inside.

Praying to the Goddess of Womanhood, she promised she would not utter one single scream in pain as they raped her as long as she could survive. She would live and kill them in repayment. Hands pulled her legs harder to accommodate his hips, Eschalot stared him down.

"Vegeta!" the name was shouted in startlement as a struggle began above her. Males flew with Ki blasts from another's hands.

Gasping, realizing she had been holding her breath, Eschalot laid rod still as a new claimant stood over her. The male who had promised his protection stood, bathed in firelight, his eyes were not upon her, instead he challenged the would-be rapists to come at him again. Only then, when the sounds of their retreat became silent, did he look at her.

His dark eyes, harsh under the black sky, filled with fire held no softness. With two hands he pulled her up from the hands and held her in his arms. Supporting her dead weight as he walked away, to the surprise of many others as he stormed off.

Her hearing returned as he brought her to the tent, she had been plucked from just days ago. Entering the warmed chamber, she pushed and slapped to get away from him. He did not feel her attacks as he strode forwards and placed her on the skins of his bed.

Like a wounded animal she hissed and scooted away, putting as much distance between her and her captor turn savior as she should. With shaking hands, she pulled her ripped gown around herself, covering her shivering body from his view.

He did not speak as he moved about the darkened chamber. He stoked the potted fire with a log and then poured water into a vessel, bringing it to the bedside. His gaze had yet to fall back onto her. For her own sense of self-preservation, she was glad of it. She knew deep within herself; he was the one she could not defend against. Her heart fluttered at the thought. Rapists she could fight, but this impressive Sealord sent chills down her back and heat pooled in her gut. Something about him told her, fighting him was futile.

"To fight them you have courage." He finally spoke, startling her. He leaned over with a wetted rag to clean her.

"To fight back when others attack me?" she nearly screamed it in bloodlust, "A beast has that kind of courage." Evading his touch, she slapped his hand away.

Angered he threw the rag at her; she threw it back in kind. Knees to her chest she stared him down. Finally, he shifted the bowl onto the firs and placed the rag inside. She would tend to herself. Cleaning her face gently she wiped her blood from her skin.

"Eat." He placed a tray of fruits and cured fish at her bare feet, sitting back against the walls, a fruit already at his lips.

She would not let her eyes betray her. Just like the first time there were alone in his hut he gave the appearance of a caring male wanting to tend to a weaker female. But she knew what he was, had watched him murder her priests. "I've known men like you my whole life."

Scoffing, he peered up at her in amusement, smiling with a perfect grin, "No, you haven't."

Patting the sides of her sore neck down with the water, she raised her brow at him, "You think you're so different from a thousand others? Soldiers understand nothing but war, peace confused them."

"You hate soldiers?"

"I pity them." Tearing into the fish, she filled her belly as fast as she could.

He handed her a skin of wine, smiling as he watched her, "Soldiers from your tribe died trying to protect you. Perhaps they deserve more than your pity?"

Drinking it down, she felt her strength return. It was then she realized her body was completely bare to him as she held the skins up to drink, the gown fell to the sides. His eyes feasted on her naked skin. His eyes traversing the perfect skin of her breasts bone all the way down to her mons. Groaning, she pulled one of the skins over herself, "Why did you choose this life?"

"What life?" his eyes snapped back to hers.

"To be a great warrior?"

Sighing he scooted forward, placing his forearms on the bed of skins, resting his chin on his powerful muscles as his eyes looked up into hers. He was completely at ease and took his time answering as he watched her. "I didn't, this life chose me. I was born and this is what I am. I am a Saiyan. And you? Why did you choose to love a god? I think you'd find the romance one-sided?"

Leaning forward, keeping the skins under her arm, she matched his gaze with an intrigued glare of her own. Their breaths mingled as they were a breath apart. "Do you enjoy provoking me, Vegeta?"

"You dedicated your life to the gods, God of Light, Goddess of Wisdom; you serve them?"

"Yes."

"And the God of War who blankets his bed with the pelts of the men he's killed and drinks of their blood? Does he not also take unwilling lovers to his bed—made of their mates' pelts—and masters their bodies until they beg to become stars to stay with him forever?"

Blinking, she sat back up and brought her hair around one shoulder and began to finger comb it, refusing to look at him. He too sat back up straight, and then came to rest on his knees, hands placed on the furs by her legs. He wanted his answer and would not take his gaze from her until he did.

As she began to braid her hair, he leaned forward and dominated her space, "All gods must be feared and respected." She answered.

As she turned to continue speaking, her lips were crushing under the caress of his own. Pressing his mouth to hers, Eschalot stared into his wide eyes in shock. As if Ki entered her lips from his own, a buzzing surge traveled through her skin and all over her body. It felt like him, like his essence had somehow entered into her. He possessed her for a brief moment, blood ran hot, belly flipped, mind went blank. But then she returned to herself.

Smirking he pulled his own lips from hers. "I'll tell you a secret, something they don't teach you in your temple. The gods envy us. They envy us because we are mortal, any moment could be our last. We are doomed to die; therefore, everything is more beautiful. You will never be lovelier than you are right now." Retreating, he stood and walked away from her.

"I thought you a dumb brute. I could have forgiven a dumb brute." With his back bared to her, she tentatively touched her still tingling lips. They felt foreign, not of her own flesh.

Turning back around, pulling his tunic shirt away, his barrel chest exposed, "Who is your father?"

"The chief."

Pulling the wrapping of his covering, Vegeta stood in the fire and candlelight of his dwelling naked. Splashing some water from a jug, he began washing, "Of course, he is." Vegeta snorted, "Brothers?" washing himself before her showed he was not threatened with her presence, but at ease. Toying with her.

Taking his challenge, she did not look away, however she kept her eyes at chest height, knowing she was already blushing from embarrassment. Nearly raped this night and now naked and alone with a more deadly and scary naked male. It was enough to make the youngest virginal acolyte faint.

Scratching the side of her ear she answered him as he tossed his head back and washed his hair. "Nine."

"Nine?" he faltered.

"Yes, nine sons, and one daughter. Though I suspect they think me dead."

"How did your father feel when you gave up everything to love a god?"

"He was proud of me, such a sacrifice for the gods, it is honorable."

"Becoming something less that what you are is honorable?"

"Not every Saiyan needs to quench his desires in bloodlust! We are more than mindless killing machines. There is honor in giving fidelity to the gods. You may not be a dumb brute, but you are a killing machine. For that you will only seek glory to one day be replaced by another whose legend is far greater than your own."

Smirking, he raised his newly returned cup in his hand, "Here's to that." He laughed toasting his successor, "May he be worthy of his legends."

"I curse him then," she spat, "I curse him to his legend, may he be a fool—may he be a happy fool."

Vegeta smirked but said nothing about her curse. Instead he changed the subject, "This giving up of Ki, how is it done?"

"Tribal secrets, tis why we hid ourselves, why the gods protect us."

"Because you are weak?"

Growling in frustration she pulled the coverings higher on her body and stewed in the agitation he caused to bubble in her. It was what he wanted. Laughing, he toweled dry and blew some of the candles out, leaving the pot fire to heat the air for them.

Strolling naked towards her he sighed, rolling his neck to pop the creaks from his bones. "Move over."

"I beg your pardon?" she gasped as he came to the bed and motioned for her to slide to the side. "You are not getting under here with me!"

"It's my bed."

"And I am unmated, you will not dare to lay beside me!"

"You are my captive, Princess." He pulled the covering from her hands and started to climb in beside her. At first touch of his heated flesh she scrambled way. His arms quickly wrapped around her smaller form and pulled her down into his nest. "Be still."

"Let go of me!" clawing at his arms she bucked to push him away. It only made him roll her under him as he chuckled. "Even if I am a captive, I am a Princess!"

"And what a gentle princess you are." crushing her under his weight, Vegeta held her tightly, "You sleep beside me, you are safe."

Arching at the back, she tried once more and found herself pushed deeper into his searing heat. "I will sleep beside you, but you will not hold me. You will not touch me as a mate would"—gasping she went still as he rolled his hips against her backside. Even though the lightweight material separating them, she knew what lay at the curve of her back. Dumbfounded she shook in shock as his body sang to hers as he chased his own pleasure.

Dry mouthed, she listened to him grunt and breath at her ear as he continued to hump her backside. A sound escaped her lips and then he laughed. His hot breath tickling the skin of her bare arms as he took his arms from around her and turned over, "Very well, Princess."

The laughter in his voice felt like an arrow to the heart. Laying beside her, the male drifted into a still and deep sleep. Snoring. Dead weight. Testing his reaction, Eschalot rolled over and started up at the covered ceiling. She could not let herself fall into slumber, even as his heat seared her.

Sitting up, slowly, taking her time, she pealed her legs from under the furs and stood from them. Vegeta shifted, rolling onto his back. Holding her breath, afraid the simplest of sounds would alert him, force his hand, kill her.

On the tip of her toes, she crossed the tent. Meer moments felt like hours. Pulling back the fastener—a make resembling the one laying in the bed stood nearby. Panicking she cursed her cowardice as she stepped back. With her strength drained and little Ki, she stood no chances of escaping.

Pivoting on heel, she stared at her captor. Laying deaf to her desire to escape. There was no escaping him. His claim was now known by all. Taking her, winning her from a band of lusty males, for all to see. If she were to take one step out of his sights, there was no doubt she would be returned.

She belonged to Vegeta.

Biting her lip, punching the air, the realization of her predicate stuck. Alone, naked, and overpowered. How the Goddess of Virtue would laugh at her charge. A virginal priestess, dedicated to the gods, promised to them. Already she has sinned, males have touched and tasted her skin, feasted their eyes on what could never be again. Clean and unmarked. Covering her mouth, she resisted and overwhelming scream of agony.

It was then, something sparkling caught her eye. Drawn to it, reaching out like a child. The light of the Goddess brought her to her salvation. A dagger had been left in the open. Taking it up, she then looked to her captor. His claim over her body would be moot with his own death.

Shock filled her throat when she realized her vicious thoughts. How could she? Such things are beyond a priestess. Her Saiyan blood cooled without her Ki. But then something rippled down her back and caressed the skin of her sides.

The scent of ambrosia flittered across her nose; she dares not turn back.

The Goddess of Womanhood stood behind Eschalot, leaning down to hold the female in her arms as a mother would a child. Her blood red hair, the symbol of a girl's transformation to woman, floated in the air as her tinted lips kissed the side of her head. Long fingers pealed back the ripped fabric and bared her naked flesh in the darkened chamber.

_You will soon be under my charge, Eschalot. Take up this blade and kill him—your body will be tainted with his blood. Return to his bed—you will be his. You will never be a clean and chaste priestess after this night. _

Shivering, she dares not speak to the goddess. Her gaze shifted from the blade to the male laying before her.

_What could be more natural? Seeking a male's protection? The gods have abandoned you, dear one, he is everything for you now. _Her hands lovingly traced the curves of Eschalot's body, _there is no shame in it, my love, your world has ended but he can give you a new one. I have chosen him for you. It pleases me to give you to him. _

Tears fell down her cheeks as the goddess dissolved into the night air. Fear pulsated though her bones as she held the blade tighter in her hand, eyes locked on the slumbering male. Laying so unknowingly that a goddess had just been here.

Given to him…

Who is she to defy a goddess and her designs?

But is such a thing so easy? She gave her Ki, her life, in service to the gods. When the moment came, to place herself on the sacrificial alter of the high temple, she knew what she was giving up. Her life, for service. Thing she will never do, teachings she would never learn, and offspring who would never be born.

When the stripping began, the most intense pain ever inflicted upon her body became pleasure, she gave herself of her own free will.

Now she was to be given as though a trinket would be gifted.

Her world has come to an end. Her tribe, powerful as it might be, would never be the same. They were found, they are part of the world once more and would never be lost. Victory or defeat, the Misty Island Tribe would never return to its idyllic state. The gods don't see fit to protect any of them, she was no more a priestess as that male was a scholar. She would be lost amongst the waves.

No high priest nor Ki to offer guidance nor protection.

Only he.

Vegeta.

Tightening her grip on the blade, she steeled her fear of this powerful make and approached, weighing her options. She could kill him, wait for the others to fall asleep. She needed to gain her bearings before slipping into the estuaries and finding her way home. She had grown up playing on these beaches, she could find her way in the dark.

If she didn't kill him, her virginity would eventually be taken, not given! Not truly freely. The goddess may deem him worthy of such a thing, but he has yet to prove himself.

Prove himself? She paused at such a thought. He was a lowly soldier and she a virginal priestess. Such a thing could never be—she belonged to another; the gods. He would never prove himself because it was not possible!

Shaking the thoughts away, she held the blade up, watching the dim ember light dances on the smooth metal. If she doesn't kill him, he will only go to battle in the morning and kill more of her tribe. Killing him could save thousands, there is no question of that. The true question was if she could. Without the instinct, with years of devotion and prayer—could she take a life? She could hardly stomach the yearly festival, where ten prized animals are sacrificed on the alter. Could she kill a male much larger and more powerful than she?

Watching as he slept, steps away from freedom or ruin. Slowly she approached and knelt on the bed of skins. He did not move. Had no idea. Now was her chance.

Biting her lip, she weighed it once more. Kill Vegeta, invoke the goddess' wrath and escape, or be ruined and completely at his mercy.

Holding her breath, she reached down and placed the knife on the far side of his neck. Now or never…

"Do it." He spoke in the night, turning his head and opening his eyes towards her, feeling the blade against the skin of his neck, shock stung her as she starred down at him, "Nothing is easier than slitting a throat."

Licking her aching and dry lips, "Aren't you afraid?" She looked down upon him, curious why he would welcome his own death so calmly. When she had been fretting over ending it.

"What does it matter, everyone dies. Be it my time now or fifty years from now." She stared down at him, unmoving. Reaching up he took her shoulders and forced her weight down atop of him, "Do it now." The blade against his skin, hardly cutting, but enough to send warning into his blood.

Her heart ignited, beating fast in her chest, his hands held her bare arms tightly, enough to send her into a panic. Yet his heat and scent engulfed her, spreading through her blood faster than fear. Dizzying senses clogged with warmth and comfort. His body inches away from her own, in the darkness. His scent of warm night air wrapped around her spine and swam into her belly. Electric pulses, ones akin to Ki, skipped across her skin as he held her, daring her with eyes darker than any ebony night.

Pulling her closer, the blade threatening, Vegeta's breath mingled with her own. The memory of his kiss replayed. Such temptations should be below one such as her, yet she could not help drinking in the sight of this male. Strong, large, virile. So, unlike anyone she had ever beheld before in her many years.

Gasping as her mind played tricks on her body, liquid heat pooling between her legs, a scent so forbidden wafted into their space. She watched as Vegeta's eyes became red as fire, his body inhaling her scent, growing larger, more agitated, his eyes turned red like fire.

Licking her lips, she questioned him, "You'll kill more of my tribe if I don't?"

"Yes, many." He answered, his eyes deadly, knowing the secret question hidden behind her beautiful dark eyes.

Interest, want, desire, need. All of it between them. Combustible reckoning the likes before he had not experienced in his lifetime. A female with a scent so delicious he would kneel at her feet and pledge his whole life too if she gave up her charms. She would rule the world if she were his.

He was above the likes of those ravenous lusty drunkards on the beach. He would not harm her; she was precious and to be sheltered and protected under his tent.

Even as she started dumfounded down at him, the blade at his throat, he knew he could not harm her. He needed to remind her it was not an obligation, "Do it." He commanded once more. Daring her to kill him. He would die happily under her blade, killed by one so lovely and sweet smelling as she.

Her heart beat so fast he could see it against her skin. Hackles rose up, cheeks turned a fetching color of red. Her body responded to his call, their mingled desire. Tossing her aside Vegeta took dominance and fitted his hips into the cradle of her thighs. At the first touch of her liquid fire, a growl escaped his throat. With the blade still at his throat he leaded down and kissed her perfect lips.

Stunned at what was happening, having a rutting male above her, rolling his hardness into her body, Eschalot followed him into passion. The blade fell from her hands as her hands rounded his barrel chest and clawed into his powerful shoulders. Joined in passion, Vegeta feasted on his prize, finding the pit of desire and madness intertwined with a strange emotion he knew not what to call it. Bordering domination and possession.

His and only his. To protect, care for, and desire. No other. Would come after him, just as no other would come after her. Pushing such primal thought to the back of his mind, he placed himself against her heated core, and pressed forward. The cries of her pain were swallowed by his kiss. Pleasure the likes of which no words could be used to describe filled them both. Claimed under his body, Eschalot gave herself over to him.

The blood-haired goddess of Womanhood stood with her sister, the pure white goddess of Virtue. The watched as the destiny unfolded itself before them. Vegeta brought Eschalot into womanhood. Sighing, the virgin goddess handed her sister a small statue, a representation of the virgin priestess. The moment the goddess of Womanhood toughed it, the white bled into red. Eschalot's life and devotion does not belong to Virtue anymore.

Laying his head into the crook of Eschalot's neck Vegeta sighed in contentment. Completely at ease and spent. Holding her tight against his larger body, he kissed her skin. Worshiping her. Eschalot's hands still clung to his dark main. Her eyes wide, staring into the heaves as though she could sea the stars. Her heart had claimed, and yet her mind swirled as Vegeta gave all his weight into her bones, comforting her with his heft. His hands wrapped around her back as his lips touched the delicate skin of her neck.

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To Be Continued…

Page Count: 15

Word Count: 7,487


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